


this is how it always ends.

by MrAdequateBar



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Mentions of Blood, Near Future, Puffy go ham Puffy go off, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, because when is there not, potential canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrAdequateBar/pseuds/MrAdequateBar
Summary: Theseus is pushed, Antigone ties a noose, and Orpheus turns around. This is how it needs to end.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream
Comments: 1
Kudos: 69





	this is how it always ends.

“There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor- I don’t know if you’ve heard of Eret? He had a saying, Phil.”

~~~

He giggled in between fits of coughing up blood. Surrounded by his adversaries, all glowering in hate, seething at the teeth and ready to lay waste to this man, this _monster_ that had caused nothing but pain for them for as long as they could recall.

The blood made him look almost human. As did the weak smile he gave, visible just barely under his dirtied and cracked mask.

“Any last words, Dream?”

They were met with another hysterical laugh.

Tubbo and Tommy, leading the pack, met eyes. Tubbo frowned, giving his friend a nod. But just as Tommy turned back to Dream and raised his sword to strike, the man in green raised a weak arm.

Between quick and frail breaths no doubt travelling through cracked ribs and bruised lungs, Dream breathed out one word. “Mom.”

Tommy just barely heard the word. Tubbo, whose hearing had not survived too well after the amount of firework shows he’d been victim to, didn’t hear it at all and gave Tommy a nudge on the arm when the younger boy didn’t swing.

Tommy’s nose scrunched slightly in confusion. “What?” A hand on his shoulder brought his arms down, as Puffy solemnly walked toward the man on death’s door.  
  
“Dream.”

The others in the group, almost twenty people all gathered with the common goal of killing this man, took their steps back as the two simply looked at each other. Dream averted his gaze for one moment, to look back at the group. “Could we have a moment?”

“No, Dream, we can’t. I won’t be alone with you. Whatever you’re going to say, you need to say it in now.” Puffy said, trying to push down the lump in her throat.

Dream scoffed. “Fine. I wanted to ask you something, Puffy.” he groaned, pulling his sword out. Everyone at the back of the room flinched, a couple even preparing to defend the weaponless Puffy, but stopped when the boy simply slid the sword across the floor, watching it stop at Puffy’s feet. “I wanted to know if you would do the honors.”

Puffy looked at the sword at her feet. _Nightmare._ God knows how many times they’d seen their communicators light up with the message that this thing had slain someone, how much terror it had caused when in Dream’s hands. And now it sat on the cold stone floor of the stronghold, lifeless at Puffy’s feet. Just a piece of metal.

“...Why did you do all this?” Puffy asked.

Dream shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s fun.”

Neither of them saw it, but from the small group at the back of the room, Ranboo inhaled sharply and instinctively dug his claws into his palms.

“You became a monster.”

“I was always a monster, Puffy. I’m the villain. I’m the final boss. And now I pay the price.” Dream clarified, hacking up another bloody, distorted laugh.

Hesitantly, Puffy crouched, wrapping her fingers against rough leather and cool metal as she grasped Nightmare’s handle. “Why should you- Why should I kill you?”

“Because that’s how it goes. That’s how the story ends. That’s how it _always_ _ends_.” 

“No, Dream. Why should I give you that? Why should I give you that satisfaction? Why should you die at my hands, when you’ve done nothing to me? Why should you die without suffering any consequences? After what you did to L’Manburg? After what you did to that _child,_ that _sixteen year old boy?_ ” Puffy demanded.

From the other side of the room, Tommy flinched.

“What, you mean teach him a lesson? Make him pay a price for his wrongdoings?” Dream snarled, momentarily looking past Puffy and shooting daggers into Tommy’s eyes, causing a few people to stand in front of the boy. “I blew up L’Manburg because of _him_ . This is all _Tommy’s_ fault.”

“Oh, Tommy griefs someone’s house, something that happens on a _regular goddamn basis_ on this server, and in response you blow up a country all the way down to bedrock?” Puffy snaps. “...That’s not teaching someone a lesson. That’s not even anarchy! That’s just being violent for the fuck of it. I have endlessly watched you punish others for the most minor of inconveniences simply because you can’t accept the fact that _the world doesn’t revolve around you, Dream_!” she nearly screams, swiping Nightmare’s tip across the stone floor and scratching it. “So tell me, if this is all Tommy’s fault, then why have you asked me to kill you?”

“...Because you’re exactly right, Puffy. I lashed out. I made a mountain out of a molehill and it ended in destruction and death.” Dream conceded. “I ruined everything, and this is the moment where the tragic villain is finally defeated by the one person who gave a damn about them because they knew them when they were human.”

He pauses before slowly rising in posture, voice climbing. “I am not going to wait for very much longer, Puffy. This is how it always ends. This is how we get our happy ending. Theseus is pushed, Antigone ties a noose, and Orpheus turns around. This is how it needs to end. Now _do it._ Everybody wants you to.”

“You think this is going to be my happy ending? I don’t know what kind of stories you read, Dream, but in my stories, the heroes normally don’t have to stab their own sons.”

Dream throws his head back in a cackle. “You are _literally_ describing events that have _already_ _happened_. History is repeating itself once again, and if I did my job right, then this will be the _last_ time. I know you weren’t here the last time this happened, Puffy, but let me tell you a little known fact I learned from my good friend, Technoblade: _good things don’t happen to heroes._ ”

In the classic, watered-down kids version of this story, this is where Puffy sends a blade through Dream’s sternum and watches the final bits of life leave her son’s eyes, Phil looking on solemnly from the group as Dream dies with a smile on his face the same way Wilbur did so long ago.

But instead, there is a clatter as Puffy drops the sword to the side, too far for Dream to reach. 

“No. I refuse to take part in this carefully constructed narrative of yours, Dream.” she promptly turns around and faces Tommy. “If it were my choice, I’d say death is too easy a punishment. But it’s not. You need to be the person who ends this, Tommy.”

Tommy nods at Puffy and looks down at the sword in his hand. 

He looks at Ranboo, so quick to help Tommy even when he knew it might be detrimental to him, always looking out for the people he loves even when it might land him in hot water. 

He looks at his father, who was so grossly aloof for so long, only returning to stab his brother in the heart, running off with Technoblade, taking joy in destroying the pride and joy of his sons with withers and TNT and Dream. 

Dream. The man who forced him away from Tubbo, and L’Manburg, and everyone who he cared about. Obsessing over the only physical possessions that Tommy cared about, that represented his friendships and those he loved. Who sat close to him night after night on the cold shores of Logstedshire, too close for comfort, watching carefully so that Tommy couldn’t even think of possibly rebelling, remembering what Dream’s harsh hands felt like grabbing him and throwing him to the ground, setting fire to his armor and beating him senseless, blowing up his home and all his supplies, he remembers the blood and the sweat and the hands and the screams and the smell of gunpowder and the scrape of metal and the

He looks at Tubbo. Oh, Tubbo. His best friend, his partner in crime. Face scarred from multiple times being blown up, mistreated by almost all of the people he’d looked up to, Tommy included. A smile on his face. Determination in his chest. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was naive. Maybe it was what caused Technoblade to set fire to their nation. But fuck if Tommy cared. No matter what, it was always he and Tubbo versus Dream. They were children. Children not made men by the wages of war, but children stumbling through a fuckstorm of chaos brought upon them by megalomaniacal adults seemingly unperturbed by the trauma being set upon people too young to understand any of it, any of this.

Tommy extended a hand to Tubbo. He was grateful to Puffy for being the only person who seemed to understand that. Who refused to be the next Phil, refusing to let Dream be the next Wilbur, letting Tommy be in charge of himself for the first time. It was _his_ choice what happened to Dream. 

Maybe Puffy was right, that death was too quick and easy a punishment for Dream. Who really knew what would happen to Dream after he died? Where would he go? Maybe he would simply respawn and continue to do the same fuckshit he always did. But damn if this wasn’t going to feel cathartic for Tommy anyway.

_[Dream was slain by Tommyinnit]_

**Author's Note:**

> don't kill me this was literally just an idea i had cause i made a tumblr post and then couldn't stop thinking about how puffy in general has said "fuck you" to the way most adults on the server act about dream and tommy


End file.
